


The Joy Unconfined

by Katbelle



Series: learn me hard, learn me right [4]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: All the ladies want a piece of that, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ballroom Dancing, Birthday Party, Character Death Fix, Javert is a great dancer apparently, M/M, Movie/Brick Fusion, Period-Typical Homophobia, Romance, Slow Dancing, Some people can't dance at all but they still try, Valjean tries and fails at not being jealous, Whoops my hand slipped at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katbelle/pseuds/Katbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valjean did not know that Javert could dance, let alone that he was such a good dancer. So it came as a surprise when the man had spent the entire evening of Marius' birthday entertaining various ladies. Valjean was--less than thrilled by it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Joy Unconfined

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [the slow dancing prompt from the k-meme](http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/13024.html?thread=5885920#t5885920). I have never known that writing about dancing was this difficult + it might appear obvious that my ballroom dancing days are long gone. Ah, well. This is a hand-wavey canon!AU that's also a mish-mash of the Brick, the musical and the movie (but that may be apparent only to me).
> 
> Deep apologies to Mr. George Byron from whose _Childe Harold's Pilgrimage_ I've stolen a line for the title.

**The Joy Unconfined**

He hadn't known that Javert could dance. He rather thought that he could not, that Javert's duties had kept him busy, that the life he had led before was not one that invited entertainment of such a frivolous nature. He remembered, from the days back in Montreuil, that Javert had never partaken in the social gatherings of any sort, least of all dances that some of the wealthier residents oft organized, not even on the rare occasions when an invitation for the stern policeman was extended.

That was precisely the reason why he had insisted on them attending when this particular invitation arrived in post. It had been for Marius' birthday celebration and a dance that his grandfather had announced, and Javert did not want to go while Valjean did not want to go alone. Cosette had all but begged for their attendance and, in the end, Valjean was unable to say no to her. Still, he had had a different scene in mind when he had finally cowed and assured his daughter that yes, both he and his dear friend would make an appearance. He had imagined himself and Javert, sharing a glass of wine, standing at the back of the hall, listening to the fine music and quietly observing the dancing people, perhaps commenting on the graceful moves and breathtaking beauty of Cosette. He had not anticipated Mademoiselle Gillenormand approaching them and having the nerve to ask if any of the messieurs would care for a dance with her; he most certainly had not anticipated Javert bowing his head and saying that he would be honoured to. Honourded to, bah!

Yet that was what happened.

He was acutely aware of the heads that turned when Javert took Mademoiselle Gillenormand's left hand in his right and led her to where the other couples were already moving slowly in tune with the music, in a line fronted by a man in whom Valjean recognised Théodule, Marius' cousin, and a lovely young lady who blushed furiously whenever Théodule whispered in her ear. It was Théodule who dictated the pacing of the dance, the movements and the steps taken next. He was graceful if rigid, and Valjean had a feeling that he was showing off his prowess by attempting what seemed like particularly difficult figures. And yet--and yet the line of dance was never broken. The men stopped and the ladies circled around them before returning to their positions. Valjean's eyes slid over the couples and rested on Javert's silhouette, in the fifth row, quickly changing his right-handed grip on Mademoiselle Gillenormand's hand for a left-handed, putting his right arm behind her back in what looked like a protective gesture. It was not, each dancing man did the same, but it still made Valjean clench his fists. Mademoiselle Gillenormand leaned in and whispered something in Javert's ear and Javert--Javert positively laughed at that.

The dance continued without a single fault. The couples stopped, from time to time, always mirroring Théodule's most recent movement. They moved in a straight line, they stopped; they circled around, with hands kept at eye-level, they moved once more in this careful yet so very graceful procession. Valjean caught Cosette's eye when she flashed him a brilliant smile; he smiled back at her, heart full of pride at the sight of this wonderful creature his daughter grew up to be. On the dance floor, the couples stopped and faced each other, hands held high to create sort of a tunnel in which they then, one by one, disappeared, only to resume the dance at the very end. They criss-crossed the room and briefly exchanged partners — Valjean noticed Javert bowing his head before Cosette and Marius taking the hand of his aunt — and it all lasted too long in Valjean's opinion. From the people who refrained from dancing, and this included some less fortunately pretty girls as well as Marius' grandfather, Valjean was the one who clapped the loudest when the couples bowed for the final time and the dance ended.

Javert kissed the hand of Mademoiselle Gillenormand and turned to make his way across the room to where Valjean stood. He was halfway there when a petite young woman barred his way. Valjean strained to hear the words exchanged, but the distance was too big and the room filled with a buzz too loud. He only saw Javert's slightly embarrassed expression when the mademoiselle gripped the sleeve of his tailcoat, and the small nod he gave her as he allowed the lady to place her hand on his clenched fist. Javert dared to risk an apologetic glance over his shoulder, in Valjean's direction, as he led the young lady back towards the dance floor. This dance, Valjean noted, was much quicker and more cheerful than the previous one. The young lady — scarcely more than a girl, really — partnering Javert was the same one who danced with Théodule previously, and she was now blushing ever more profoundly. It was not much of a surprise; Javert has always cut a handsome figure, but tonight he looked especially dashing. There was a part of Valjean which felt proud at the thought that the ladies seemed to prefer Javert's graceful skills to the boastful and crowding personality of Marius' cousin. There was also another part, one he would never admit to, that was strangely jealous. The worst thing, the very worst thing, was that Valjean was not sure of what he was feeling so jealous. The attention that Javert was receiving? Surely not, it was Valjean who so oft worried about Javert's infrequent interactions with anyone other than himself. Javert's grace and apparent skill? By God, no; Valjean, despite having a daughter, had never quite managed to grasp even the most basic concept of dancing, therefore anyone who could perform such a feat gained his immediate admiration. Truly, Javert dancing was a thing to admire, not envy.

"Monsieur Javert seems to be enjoying himself tonight," Cosette noted as she appeared beside her father with a glass of wine in her hand. She inclined her head towards the dance floor where Javert was now accompanied not only by Théodule's former partner, but also two other ladies. They seemed entertained by whatever it was that Javert was telling them.

"That is a good thing," Valjean said because it was a good thing, Javert rarely appeared this relaxed when not in the comforts of their own house. Far from him, the three ladies laughed and Valjean saw Javert smile at that. That, that was a good thing too; Javert nowadays smiled more often than he used to but it still was not as often as Valjean would like him to. Javert had a beautiful smile, everyone should be able to see it.

And maybe _that_ was what he was jealous of, the treacherous part of Valjean pondered. The attention Javert was bestowing tonight upon everyone but him.

It was a thought most unbecoming and Valjean tried to stomp it as soon as it surfaced. However, he could not stop himself from wishing that he could claim that attention for himself, that he could storm over to the dance floor, take Javert's hand in his and dance with the man, just like Javert danced with the ladies all evening, his own clumsiness and lack of skill be damned. After all, Valjean was just a man, and try as he might, he was at times a very selfish one.

~***~

They did not live in Paris anymore — Valjean had grown tired of the city so the news of Javert's new post away from it were warmly welcomed — but Valjean still held the ownership of the house at Rue de l'Homme-Armé, for pure convenience. This way he had a place to stay whenever any business had called him back to Paris. This way, whenever he visited Cosette and Marius and whenever he managed to convince Javert to come with him, they did not stay at the Pontmercys' house. They had their own rooms which were theirs and just for them to command. It made certain matters easier and eliminated the need for secrecy and half-truths.

The house at Rue de l'Homme-Armé was the place they retreated to after the ball had ended and Valjean had said his goodbyes to Cosette and Marius. Javert was in a good spirit during the carriage ride, humming a nonsensical tune under his breath. With the same tune on his lips he entered the house and made his way to the bedroom, where he started slowly and methodically undressing.

Valjean appeared in the bedroom's doorway when Javert had already taken off his tailcoat and folded it on a chair. He was standing just in his shirtsleeves and a fine purple waistcoat, with his back towards the door. A pity it was as the deep colour of the cloth made Javert's blue eyes appear even bluer. The waistcoat was a present from Valjean; Valjean was by now used to having more money than he knew what to do with. Once, he used to buy various gifts for Cosette; but now his daughter was married and had her husband to buy her things, and Valjean only had Javert to gift.

"I did not know you could dance."

Javert stopped in his motion and turned slightly towards the doorway, to look at Valjean. Half of the buttons on his waistcoat were undone. Soft light of the lamp caught in Javert's eyes and made them look so blue they appeared almost ethereal. Valjean had to swallow.

"The things you do not know about me could fill a book, Valjean," Javert said tiredly and once more turned away from him, once more bent his head and focused on unbuttoning the waistcoat. He was right, of course; for everything that Javert knew about Valjean, there was only a handful of information he had offered about himself. Most of the things Valjean knew about him were the things Javert had carelessly let slip and was unable to take back afterwards. But it was well too — Valjean was nothing if not patient, he would gladly wait as long as it took for Javert to feel comfortable enough to share. For now what they knew would suffice.

"You did not know how to dance in Montreuil," Valjean reminded and he finally entered the room and crossed it to stand behind Javert's back. The man sensed his approach as he straightened slowly. "That much I know."

"Montreuil was a long time ago," Javert said. Such a long time ago, the decade that separated today from the lives they had led in M-sur-M, and so many happenings occurred in that time! "We have changed since then, both you and I. And I, I learnt to dance."

There was a slight undercurrent of pride in Javert's voice, of the kind he expressed when he reveled in a duty done right. So perhaps the dance felt as a duty to him; somehow Valjean could not fault this reasoning. They were invited to a social gathering and dancing was a part of it; there were ladies with no partners, it did seem like such a Javert thing to decide that if he could do something about this predicament, he should.

"That you did," Valjean murmured. His hands ran over Javert's sides, pressed the man's body closer to his. Valjean nipped a kiss behind Javert's right ear, planted it on the soft brown locks. Recently, Javert had allowed his hair to grow out and it turned into this floppy mess which annoyed Javert to no end, yet took away some years. He looked--adorable would be the word Valjean would use, but never to Javert's face. Still though. Adorable.

Javert let out an exasperated sigh and asked, "Will you let go of me?" He tried to bat Valjean's hands away which only resulted in Valjean catching his wrists and pinning them to his sides.

"No, I will not." Contradicting himself, Valjean let go of one wrist, then used his grip on the other to spin Javert around, to make the man face him. He smiled when he saw Javert's frown; he let go of the man completely, took a step back and extended his left hand. Javert eyed it suspiciously. "Will you do me the honour?"

"I thought you could not dance," Javert said in an almost accusatory tone, but slipped his right hand into Valjean's left. Valjean gripped it tightly, palm to palm, his fingers closed around the back of it. He pulled Javert closer to him and put his right hand on Javert's back, just below the man's shoulder blade, mimicking Marius' position he had gleaned earlier in the evening.

"I cannot," Valjean agreed, "but it does not mean that I will not try."

Javert grunted something in response, but allowed to be held. He had not a dress with a wide skirt which he could hold so his left hand traveled up to rest on Valjean's right shoulder. "There is no music," he observed.

"We do not need any music," Valjean whispered and pressed a quick kiss to Javert's temple. He did not know how to dance; he managed to note this particular position during today's ball, but he still knew not how to proceed. Any further movements were foreign to him and he did not even dare try for Javert would surely know when he was mistaken, and there would be plenty of awkward shuffling and stepping on feet. He contended himself to simply swaying from side to side, relishing in the heavy warmth of Javert in his arms.

Javert scooped impossibly closer and hid his face in the crook of Valjean's neck; his shoulders shook. Valjean frowned. Of course, this was far from perfect, far from graceful and light, and they did not move much — in truth, they were more or less standing in the same spot, just spinning around, just swaying — but he did not think it that bad. He thought it rather--rather nice, in fact.

"Am I embarrassing us?" he asked nevertheless.

"No," Javert replied immediately and placed a small, open-mouthed kiss on the pulse point on Valjean's neck. "Please don't stop."

He would not; God in heaven, nothing in this world would make him stop. He did not say that though; instead, he simply squeezed Javert's hand and rested his cheek against the top of the other man's head. He heard Javert take up his humming again and he adjusted the pacing of his not-steps to the tune.

One day, he thought. One day there will be no shame and no danger in holding Javert like this in a ballroom full of people; one day he will take Javert to the dance floor, he will embrace him and sway with him like this, like now, in front of everyone to see. 

Javert tipped his head up and pressed a kiss first to the corner of Valjean's mouth, then to his lips. Valjean smiled. One day. For now, though, this had to be enough.


End file.
